The Audacious Amy
by CarebearMioneGabbster
Summary: A girl gets out of rehab and now has to survive adulthood. She has many dreams but when there's love and life getting in the way, can she fulfill her desired dreams?
1. Inchoate Amy: The Introduction

**INCHOATE AMY:**

**The Introduction**

Life is where my despair lives. The dampness of my deepest feelings. My hopes and dreams all wrecked into pieces, fallen in front of me. Waiting for my next move. What will it be? Making the _right _decision has never really been easy for me. All my memories and moments so far have been nothing but negative things. A negative life. I think of all the times I wished I could be perfect or somewhere close to it. But I don't want to waste my time trying to be something I'm not. I would rather be someone I liked. Someone I could depend on. Someone to be proud of. But there was only one thing or person that just kept getting in my way...

Me.

The drainage; where I never laid a foot or hand. Getting to know someone by reading about them can never really help to know that person. But it can teach you something. There should always be something to learn from a story. As a child I've known that. Ever since I was little, all I have known is pain. Pain with too much dept. My mother reflected that on me instantly associated by my father, whom I have never met. A man I was curious all my life to see since the moment I even knew anything of the term father. I had grown up in a childhood of life lessons. Don't we all? I learned not all are trustworthy. There will always be someone to try to put and bring you down. That is what I let happen to myself. I let everything and everyone get the best of me. My mom's death is where I finally took my toll on the bad road of hardships. My emotions kindred my soul. Not many people want to believe situations such as mine. Truth; they're real. False; people are right. Here I sit, in my room. Alone; usual. Out of place; high possibility. Being in my place has put upon my curiosity of what I think of myself. I did not like being in a rehabilation center. But it was here to better me. To cure my stupid decisions of the past. Right?

Ninety days to clear my head. Ninety days to enhance my intelligence of worthiness. Ninety days to tell myself, _"Hey, don't drink anymore. Don't be a bad person who does drugs and alcohol then try to stop later on. You need help and you're getting it. Let it all be beneficial. You can achieve your aspirations in life. You can be who you want you to be." _ No offense but some days ago I found that whole statement to be a load of bull. I found out soon enough that I was right. While being in rehab did give a person a lot of free time. I used my time wisely. My passion and dreams were art and music. I know there are people everyday who wish to be a famous musician or a great artist, but I just wanted people to see me. In music and art I was able to express my feelings to others. It helped me talk to people. My key of communication with the world. Any faint idea of putting me down. I wouldn't and wasn't going to handle that lightly. In many ways I was still a screwed up person. I have grown with my harsh temper. Never having patience for anything. Sometimes I just felt so irritable that people took me to be rude. But honesty is my best policy.

No shame, no shame.

Thinking like I do I think of things outside of this place. Things from my world. I missed a lot of things. My old pick-up truck. My paintings. My guitar. My apartment. My goldfish. My Tuck. Yes, I have a love interest. Surprise you much? I bet you are wondering what a psycho like me would have a love interest for. Tuck was never my boyfriend, but he is the only person who ever really understood me. Tuck was out there. He was probably in Mexico with his cousin. He said he was going to do one last deal before he actually quit the "business". Tuck was a drug dealer. That is how I met him. To most people, Tuck was bad news. But it seemed only I really knew Tuck and Tuck is the only one who really knew me. He was deep and apart from the swearing he issued millions of time. He was flawless. In my eyes. Tuck wrote poetry. The kind I read and smiled about after reading it two or three times. He was the one who told himself and I that we needed to get our act together. The roads we were walking on were going to shrivel and bring us down with them pretty soon. That is how I ended up here. I asked to be in this place. Once called a prison, now a protector. A protector from my past. A place I did not want to enter anytime soon. But I missed Tuck and all those artificial things that mattered to me.

Amy Kelly. The one always willing to give her perspective. That's me. But today I was in a particularly good mood since today would be my last night at the rehabilation center in Wyoming. My downfall was the fact that Tucker wouldn't be back in town to come get me and now my family(my father's family) have decided to take me in. After all, I was only eighteen years of age but I had a GED, after dropping out of high school. My brain kept telling me to make the best of it but sometimes my negative attitude was just too attainable. So I shall just eat my small dinner and get ready before I rest in bed. Tomorrow was going be that day. Turning over a new leaf.


	2. Misanthrope: Chapter 1

**MISANTHROPE:**

**Chapter One**

The morning was warm at 10 A.M. as I waited in front of the building with my luggage beside me. This was the day I would finally be released back into the world. For the strangest reason I felt like a wild animal being released back into the wild kingdom. On the other hand, it might be like that. Impatience, my key trait was overwhelming me. I folded my arms impatiently as I looked around. My uncle was coming to get me, since now I would be living with him. I never really knew him but he did seem strict. I also knew very well that this was probably not a good idea. I glanced at my wrist watch and groaned in agitation. Who the hell took this long to get someone? He said he'd be here at seven and it is now three hours later than that. I know one thing. I can't trust anyone. No one. People were still being undependable. Stubborn ole' me.

I stood there with a straight face as a black, rugged van stopped in front of me. My uncle stepped out of the van, with his awkward grin planted on his face. He grabbed my luggage as I watched him then eyed his van disgustedly. I knew my truck was not the best but this...it just wasn't pleasant. The loud slam of the door to the back of the van startled me.

"You look good kid," he said patting me on the shoulder as he passed me by. "Get in quickly, I have to get the boys from school."

I rolled my eyes and got into the back of the van, slamming my door shut. Kid? I was eighteen. I was no longer considered a child. The nerve of him. "Hello Roger," I said with a pretense of enthusiasm.

I hated calling my family members by their titles. You know, like auntie, uncle, grandma, etc. So I just called them by their names. It sounded rude and obnoxious to most people but that just how I liked things.

Roger sighed as he started up the van and then it was in motion. I stared out the window, not really paying attention to whatever I was looking at. Roger wasn't talking so I decided to kill the silence. It just made me too uncomfortable.

"Will I be getting my things," I asked him, still looking out of the window.

Roger glanced up at me in his mirror. "Yeah, whenever you're ready."

"Splendid," I said, sulking into my chair as I leaned my head back. The need for silence was definitely gone now. I shut my eyes as I laid there, relaxing my mind. But within minutes, the van suddenly jerked to a stop. Roger was a dreadful driver. I could hear the voices of children outside of the vehicle. The side doors to the van opened quickly and in rushed my two annoying twin cousins, Jeremiah and Elijah. If anyone saw them they'd probably think of how cute and sweet the boys looked. That was a false appearance, these little devils have done nothing but torment me whenever I had to encounter them. Living with them would possibly be hell. They were also the reason I never wanted to have children. Ever.

Jeremiah and Elijah looked at me excitedly. "Amy! You're here!"

I scowled slightly. "Yippee," I responded sourly.

Jeremiah smirked before he started to make those annoying sounds that people make with their mouth and tongues. Elijah smiled and joined in eventually. God, they were so damn annoying. I couldn't take it anymore. They were born to torture all of human kind. It made me think of the time they put cereal and milk in my guitar. I was really pissed that day.

"Roger make them stop," I complained, glaring at them.

Roger chuckled. "Come on boys, she just got back. Save that for later."

They stopped and smiled. "Whatever you say dad," they said innocently in unison.

"Thank god," I mumbled as I went back to my relaxation zone. Finally, all they really need is some order. If I had to go to rehab they were going to need boot camp, possibly the military. As my eyes closed again I dozed off for the rest of the drive to Roger's house. When the van woke me up, we were in the driveway of the old-fashioned home. It was bearable, for now. The twins hopped out and rushed inside, their laughter drifting away. I stumbled out of the van, almost losing my balance then swearing under my breath. This place was going to be the death of me. I walked inside the house, refreshing my memory of the place. I had only been here a few times in the past. I noticed Roger as a single father, kept his house very tidy. It was weird to know that there was a guy who was neat because most guys weren't. The house was beginning to make me feel like an outcast.

Roger dragged in my ponderous luggage. He huffed as he sat it down. Roger seemed to be getting old, too old. Poor guy. I didn't care much for family myself but I knew now that Roger was really going to need my help around here. I could stick with that oath..

"Thanks," I said with a small smile. He nodded, being somewhat surprised by my smile.

"Sour on the outside, sweet on the inside," he said chuckling as he looked at me. "Follow me, I will show you where your room is."

I followed him down the narrow hall of the house. I could hear the boys chattering wildly in their room. The door next to their was my room. Crap, just fricken great. My room just had to be next to their room. I forced a smile and walked into my room, looking around as I tried to appreciate it.

"So no complaints," asked Roger, leaning in the doorway.

I smiled and laughed softly. "None yet."

"Okay," he nodded and then he left me alone. I rolled my eyes after I heard a thud from the room on the other side of the wall. My cousins were so noisy and distracting. Home Sweet Hell. I started to wonder how I was going to live here. I knew I didn't like it. This house was defined as agitation nation. I brought my luggage into my room and unpacked it slowly. My room was small and seemed fine but it would do. The brown wooden walls were dark and the light brown carpet was thick and warm underneath my toes. It was an _attractive _room. It gave me that homey feel in the inside.

I quickly changed the sheets on my bed to my dark green ones. Dark green was one of my favorite colors other than black. I supposed over time I could try decorating my room. I also realized I had a lot of clothes for a very opinionated person. After I finished getting settled with my things I laid down across the bed. I found the bed to be annoyingly squeaky. Staring up at the ceiling I begun to space out. It wasn't good or bad but I did wish I had my iPod that Tuck gave me but I was content. A bunch of memories were running through my mind at that moment. All revolving around my life.

I spent so much time spacing out I finally decided to get up off the bed after a while. I walked into the living room and noticed Roger still had his piano. It made me happy to see it so I smiled to myself. I sat down and let my fingers run across the dusty keys of the piano. It seemed no one had played it in a long time. I started to play a soft melody slowly. The keys helping my fingers make elegant music that somewhat enchanted the house. It became more livable to me at that moment. I closed my eyes as I just let it all flow from me. It was the electric wire that I didn't want to go away. My eyes quickly opened as I felt a presence in the room. My reflexes made me turn sharply. Roger stood there looking a little startled from my sudden movements.

"Someone seems a little edgy," he said as he took a seat down on the couch.

"I just—never mind," I begun as I turned around towards him.

"I wanted to discuss some things with you Amy. You just need to know the boundaries and limits you have to follow as you live here," he started.

_Oh no, here it comes_ I thought. I knew living with Roger was going to cost me. He was strict. It was only true. But I knew exactly what kind of speech and lecture he was about issue upon me. Only listening attentively would be wise right now. I walked and sat down next to him on the couch. He looked at me as I waited for him to speak.

"We both know living here isn't the highest thing on your interests list. But since you will be living in my house I want you to know a few things. I know how hard it is for you and I understand that. As a member of this household you have things to do around here. I ask that you help out when necessary, be polite and responsible and try to make the best of it. What I have to say is pretty brief but I also have a few suggestions you should consider. I think it would be better for you to get a job, so you can be able to live on your own soon. But you're also only eighteen and you only have a GED. I know you have dreams but can you make those dreams happen with a GED?"

I was listening but at the same time I was thinking. I could always get a job, that was easy to me. But was he seriously suggesting that I go back to highschool? I wasn't going to do it no matter how much he suggested it. Stupid Roger. I know I was just eighteen but I was not a child. He couldn't force this on me.

"I am sure I can do anything I put my mind to Roger," I stated matter of factly before patting him on the shoulder, as he did me earlier. "Thank you."

I got up slowly and walked out of the living room.

The next morning I got up at seven in the morning. Roger was already up and the boys were getting ready for school. I quickly showered and brushed my teeth. I decided to just put my hair in a ponytail for today. When I walked outside I found my pick-up truck to be in front the house. Roger must've brought it over while I was sleeping. I took out my keys and hopped in. As I drove around town I noticed not much had changed. I went to a lot of stores trying to get a job.

Later on throughout the day I found an auto shop who was looking for someone to stock items and a mechanic assistant. I knew one day helping Tuck fix up cars would come in handy. As I walked they had a good amount of customers and the job did pay twelve dollars an hour. That's a really good salary for someone who just got out of rehab. But I didn't have the job yet.

I found a girl with thick brown curls working at the cash register. She seemed very cheerful and bubbly. Goody, I had a great reason to leave. I try to get a job where I won't be annoyed and here was the annoyance and it was associated with the best job I'd come about today. Her eyes widened in shock as she looked at me and I raised my eyebrow in confusion. Why was she so happy to see me?

The girl rushed from around the counter and hugged me tightly.

"Amy," she said smiling widely at me. "I've missed you buddy!"

My eyes then widened as well, more like in horror as I realized who she was. She was Chelsea Dobbs. The other reason for me hating high school. She used to follow me everywhere and claimed that I was her role model. It is very exhausting when someone watches and does everything you do.

"Wow, you look great," she said looking me over and smiling. "You are still as pretty as always. What kind of shampoo do you use in your hair?"

"Um Sam," I said slapping her hand away before she touched my hair. "I'm here for a job."

Chelsea smiled and jumped up. "Oh my gosh! I am so glad you came here then and by the way my name is Chelsea not Sam."

"Yeah, whatever," I said rolling my eyes as she pulled me to the back of the store.

She knocked on the door and smiled at me again, looking at me closely. "But I am glad you still remember my nickname."

"Come on in," said a man from within the office. I opened the door and closed it quickly after I got in.

"Hello I'm Lance Carter, the manager here at Carter's Auto Shop. How may I help you?"

"I'm Amy Kelly. I am here to apply for the job as a mechanic assistant," I said taking a seat in front of the small wooden desk.

Lance nodded and leaned forward. "You must be Roger's niece. He has told me a lot about you," started Lance.

"He has mentioned me," I asked awkwardly.

Lance nodded again. "Oh yes, he said you are very intelligent girl. You have a creative mind and I know about your mechanic skills. He said you helped him rewire his van."

I smiled. "Yes, yes I did."

"Well you got the job kid. Congratulations," he said smirking and he held out his hand. I shook it immediately. Yes! I had a job. The only flaw about working here is Sam...I mean Chelsea.

"When will you be able to start," he asked as I stood up.

"Tomorrow would be great," I suggested and he nodded.

"See ya at seven in the morning kid," he said proudly.

"Thank you so much," I said as I opened the door. "And I'm eighteen, no longer a child."

I left the office happily. Today was actually a pretty good day and I was enjoying my good day. Chelsea was at the counter again, finally finishing up with most of the customers. She smiled at me and gave me a thumbs up.

"Er, thanks," I said shaking my head shamefully as I grabbed for the door. It suddenly opened with a guy carrying a bunch of boxes.

"Here you go Chelsea, you better go stock these up quick," he said as he sat them down. Chelsea smiled and looked towards me. The guy turned and grinned as he leaned on the counter.

"Well, well," he said smirking. "Look who have here. Amy Kelly."

I stopped and folded my arms as I smirked back him falsely. "Hello Rodney."

Rodney Winchester was one of the most unbearable guys at my old high school. He was what guys called a "babe magnet" and what girls called a "hottie". Rodney was none of those, if he was anything. He was superficially stupid, obnoxious, selfish and conceited. Another flaw added to my job. Greeeaat. But he never could seem to leave me alone, even when he learned I never wanted to be bothered with him.

"Ah, you remember my name," he said proudly as he walked over to me. I eyed him furiously, he was getting to me with his annoying personality. The look on his face just made me want to smack him into a brick wall or slam him into a fire hydrant.

"What do you want Rodney?"

"Now that you are out of the crazy house maybe you'd finally use your brain and date me," he said chuckling. Chelsea's smiled vanished from her face as she shook her head at Rodney's comment.

"Rodney can you please act appropriate," demanded Chelsea.

"Not today Chelsea," he said, still looking at me.

"In your dreams, Ugly," I said smiling sweetly before walking out of the store. I stormed to my truck and wrenched the door open and drove off quickly. Rodney was nothing like Tuck. If he ever wanted me to date him hell would have to freeze over a million times and Michael Jackson would have to go Hispanic.

Once I arrived back at Roger's house I ran into the kitchen happily. Roger looked up from his newspaper and grinned. "Let me guess, you got a job?"

"Yes I did," I said ecstatic as I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and sat down at the table. "I got a job at Carter's Auto Shop and thank you for telling Mr. Carter about me."

"You're welcomed," he said looking back down at his paper. I opened my bottle and sipped some of my water. Roger pushed a white note towards me...

_9 a.m. Call Tuck. 899-555-9864_

"He called," I asked surprisingly as I stared at the note. I quickly jumped up and grabbed the phone. Roger put down his paper and watched me.

"I don't think you should talk with Tuck anymore," he said. I turned to Roger and put the phone back down slowly.

"Why not," I asked looking at him. "I haven't seem him in God knows how long, he is my best friend. So why can't I call him?"

"The guy is a drug dealer Amy. Why would you call him when you know what he's up to," Roger asked sternly. "Do you want to end back up in rehab?"

"You can't blame Tuck for me being in rehab," I said loudly, getting more furious by the minute. "He told me to better myself. He is the reason I went into rehab in the first place! Tuck is getting help and he's going to be done with this whole charade."

Roger folded his arms and looked at me. "That's what is wrong with that sentence...you say he's GOING to be. That must mean he is still doing the same crap he was doing before, right?"

This was just down right wrong. Roger only knew Tuck was a drug dealer. What he didn't know was what a great person he really was. Tuck said getting out of the business is really hard once you get into it. He said now he regrets ever getting into it in the first place. But he said currently he still owed these guys some money back down in Mexico and if he didn't get it back to them there would be hell to pay. His cousin, who was also in on the business, went down with him to make sure everything went down smoothly. Tuck would get the money into their hands and not make anymore deals then go. If only Roger could comprehend with the situation better he would understand.

"You don't understand Roger," I said, trying to calm down. "I'm calling Tuck and that's final."

Roger looked defeated as his nostrils flared angrily. "Alright but I'm telling you now. Any funny business goes on around here and you shall get out of my house. Understand that?"

"Crystal clear," I said as I was now dialing the number on the paper quickly. I couldn't let Roger bring down my mood with his stupid remarks. Hearing the sound of Tuck's voice was the only thing I needed right now. Suddenly the line picked up.

"Tuck, I am so glad you answered," I said in relief.


End file.
